When I did my errands, the roads were full of cars. I even had to wait a few light cycles. What in the heck are all those people in cars doing? Why are they not at the beach on a perfect beach day? Spending even one sunny day of a vacation on the road seems a monumental waste.

I  got all my errands done because I had strategized my route before I left. Some days I give up and go home in mid-errand. Today wasn’t one of those.

When I left, I didn’t close the back door hoping to keep the house cool and in case Henry wanted out, but when I got home, he and Maddie were asleep.

Henry and Maddie rule the roost which is an odd metaphor as neither roost. I am their housemaid. Maddie wants fresh water every time she takes a drink. She sits by the water dish and meows at me when I go by the bathroom where the dish is. Before I do anything in the morning, including my coffee, I feed both of them. Henry sits and waits by his dishes, and Maddie weaves in and out of my legs, a dangerous maneuver for both of us. Treats are kept here in the den, mostly Maddie’s as she needs bulking being so skinny. Maddie is a slow, gentle eater. Henry gets a chew treat as that takes him a while to eat so Maddie can eat her treats in peace. He is always noisy and a bit messy. For their morning, afternoon and evening naps, Maddie sleeps on a small throw on the table and Henry sleeps on the couch. At bedtime, Maddie stays downstairs, and Henry runs up the stairs ahead of me and is usually waiting on my bed. Thought they don’t speak human, they have taught me how to respond to dog and cat speak. I am their faithful servant.

It has been a noisy morning. When I woke up, the kids were playing in the street, loudly playing in the street. The kids are gone but I can hear machinery, a different sound than a lawn mower. It is coming from somewhere down the street. What has happened to my  usual, quiet morning?

The air conditioner is back on as the house last night felt hot and stuffy. This morning, despite a slight breeze, it is already 81˚ with 73% humidity. As my father always said, “It ain’t the heat. It’s the humidity.”

I have to go to Hyannis today. To me, that’s like a trip to the big city. It has all the stores Dennis doesn’t, and they will soon add a Walmart. Most times I shop a bit while I’m there, but it is too hot today. Trader Joe’s will just have to wait for cooler weather.

Lately I have been watching YouTube videos about street food in Ghana. The guy doing the narrating and the eating drives me a bit crazy. He constantly smiles and thinks everything is delicious. I want to whack him every time he says awesome or amazing. His Ghanaian guide, though, is excellent. She is finding the best street food for him to try. He just bought a donut of sorts, one of my favorites. Small girls used to carry square glass boxes with wooden sides on their heads filled with those donuts. The guy finished the donut, sort of like eating dessert first, and is now eating a goat soup with okra. As he scoops banku into the soup, the okra slime hangs from his hand. I so remember that slime when I’d eat okra soup, one of my favorites despite the slime. In case you were wondering, the goat meat is awesome. His guide also had goat meat but with fufu. I love everything familiar in the video: hearing Ghanaian English, seeing little kids follow the narrator, walking behind the houses in the villages and listening to the different tribal languages, though here it is mostly Twi. He is now in a cocoa village where he will have lunch. The women are still cooking. The fufu being pounded is plantain and yam. Watching these videos always makes me feel homesick.

Last night I was reading in bed. A fly was in and out around the light and my head. I tried to whack it with a book but missed a few times. Finally I caught it in my hand. I didn’t know what to do with it so I got up, opened the window and threw out the fly who was still quite alive.

This morning I just didn’t want to get out of bed. I lolled a bit then finally around 9:45 reluctantly got up. Henry had awakened me around 6 so I went downstairs to let him out. I was taken aback a bit when I saw my door was wide open. I hadn’t closed it before I’d gone to bed. It’s a good thing no gangs of armed marauders had roamed my neighborhood in the darkness of the night.

The weather is again delightful though the humidity is coming. I wish it would rain.

When I was a kid, I was a bit mouthy, but I thought myself quite witty. My father thought otherwise. He never appreciated my quickness with the bon mot. That I got myself in trouble didn’t matter. I liked the one-upmanship.

Growing up, I mastered all the usual kid stuff like ice skates, roller skates and bike riding. I never did spin the hula hoop more than a couple of times before it fell to the ground.

I haven’t thrown horseshoes in years, but in bygone times I was good at it. Seldom did my horseshoe land far from the post, and leaners and ringers were common for me.

I haven’t miniature golfed in forever, but I still remember my frustration with the windmill. Our windmill had three holes leading to the green, and they were always my downfall. My ball inevitably hit the windmill between the holes and bounced back to me again and again. My co-players would sit on the bench waiting and laughing and doing a play by play.

I also haven’t been bowling in forever. Around here we bowl candlepin with three balls to a frame. One of my balls always ended up in the gutter, a sort of bowling curveball. If I ever got a spare, I wanted to hear We Are the Champions over the loud speaker and spontaneous applause.

I was good at softball. I was a pitcher who had a wicked fastball, and I could play first base. My bat was lively and I could judge most balls well enough to hit them for base hits. This sport, of course, is not a lifetime sport.

I’m best at tripping and falling. Too bad it’s not a sport. I’d always get a ten.

I am loving this weather. My den was so chilly this morning I had to shut the window behind me, but it is already getting warming. The high will be 78˚ and the low 55˚, which I’m expecting will be tonight.

When I was young, I believed in everything. I knew there was a Santa. He left toys under the tree every Christmas and filled my stocking until it bulged. The tooth fairy left money under my pillow. Fairies flitted in the field below my house. There were hundreds of fairies, hundreds of Tinker Bells. I never questioned why a bunny left eggs in my basket at Easter. I saw the Man in the Moon. He always smiled. I jumped over cracks in the roads and sidewalks. I didn’t want to be responsible for my mother’s broken back. My mother led me to believe if I ate watermelon seeds, they’d grow in my stomach, and that I could go blind sitting so close to the TV screen. She told me eating carrots would give me keen eyesight, and if I crossed my eyes, they’d stay that way.  I kept hoping I’d be able to see in the dark. My mother could tell if I was lying because my tongue turned black. I couldn’t get away with anything as she had eyes in the back of her head. It didn’t matter how much I looked. I never saw them, but I figured they were there anyway.

As I got older, I gradually stopped believing. I was never traumatized by learning the truth, and in some cases I was actually relieved. There would be no gardens in my stomach, I’d not go blind watching TV and my mother’s back was safe. I ate carrots and had no expectations. My mother couldn’t see behind her, and my tongue would never turn black.

I now know fireflies aren’t fairies but they still enthrall me. When the first one appears in my backyard each summer, I am always so excited, and I watch the on and off light of that firefly until it disappears, until the firefly flits off too far for me to follow. Christmas is always a joy, a delight of traditions, family and friends, even without Santa. I spit watermelon seeds for distance and for the fun of it and not because of that garden. I still believe there is magic in the world. I have to.

The string of wonderful weather continues. Today is simply gorgeous with a bright sun, a deep blue sky and a temperature cooler and more comfortable than the last few days. Henry woke me up at 4:30 to let him out. Usually I stand on the deck watching him, but this morning I went right back inside the house. It was downright chilly outside.

I have a new summer record. I have been dressed and out of the house three days in a row. Today and tomorrow will add to that record, one which will stand for a long while as I am prone to staying home in my comfy clothes, book in hand and cold drink at the ready. In winter the only change is a hot drink at the ready.

When I was a kid, the summer seemed endless. The days stretched ahead of me waiting to be filled with all sorts of adventures. I went to the library often. I’d ride my bike. I was allowed five books, and I always chose five books. I remember they’d bounce in my bike basket if I went over a bump and every now and then one fell out.

Santoro’s Subs was my favorite place to buy a sub. It was small, and on one side had only a counter against the wall and a few stools if you ate in. On the other side was the glass case with all the sub fillings, and where Mr. Santoro stood taking orders. The shop had an aroma of pickles and hot peppers. Usually I had only enough money for a small sub, and I’d take it to go. It was an Italian sub with pickles, onions and hot pepper.

If I even need to teach the meaning of irony, I have a perfect Henry story. He is prone to pulling the stuffing out of his toys and chewing on what he shouldn’t, like book bindings. After I had found clumps of white down on my bedroom floor, I went right to my  comforter and found it had holes, ragged holes indicative of chewing. I recognized the Henry touch as he had already eaten holes in my beautiful quilt and my around the house cozy pants. I sewed three of the smaller holes right then and left the large hole. The other day I found more down. I was half-changed from my outside to my inside clothes when I decided to sew that big hole. I sat there stitching. Henry was with me and was lying on the bed. My cozy pants were hanging over the end of the bed. After sewing, I grabbed my pants to finish dressing. They felt wet around the waist. I got one leg in and then noticed a large hole had been chewed in the pants. While I was mending the comforter, Henry must have gotten bored and started chewing. I was totally focused on my mending and didn’t notice Henry. To employ a bit of slang, the pants are toast.

Today is warmer than yesterday and is predicted to get hot this afternoon. I am in the den where I spend most of my time. It is at the back of the house so the room is dark and cool. In the afternoon, the sun shifts to the west, and this room gets a full blast of sun and heat. Henry is panting already mostly from running up and down the hall, his pre-bathroom ritual. He just went out. Maddie is sleeping, her ritual for the morning. At 19, she is 92 in human years, and sleeping is her favorite way to spend the morning, afternoon and evening. She does fit eating and drinking in between her naps.

I had a meeting at 9 this morning so I set my alarm. At 7:15 I had an actual rude awakening. My alarm started slowly then the sound intensified. I had no choice but to get up to shut it off.

I’m staying around the house today. My errands can wait one more day. I got three books after the meeting at the library this morning so I can shut out the world and read in the comfort of the air conditioned house.

I watched several end of the world movies the last few days. The meteor strikes were all averted. The lava was stopped. The intensely destructive weather ended, and the sun came out. Right now I’m watching flooding so catastrophic even a boat won’t help. I figure many of these doomsday movies were written by poetry lovers. This Frost poem, Fire and Ice, might be the inspiration.

After my shower yesterday, I smelled like coconut and coffee. The shampoo is coconut and the coffee mixed with coconut is an exfoliating scrub. I bought the scrub at the farmer’s market and was their first customer ever. Now I can’t imagine having a shower without using it. I think I’ll buy another jar as I want one inside and another in the outside shower. Now I need to find lemon and chocolate.

The day is amazing, third day in a row with lots of sun, bearable temperatures and no humidity. The temperature is 73˚. It will get higher but stay in the 70’s during the day and down the 60’s at night. I keep wondering what we did right to receive such gifts as the last three days.

I don’t carry a purse or a pocketbook, haven’t for years. The last one I remember having was a straw bag which was the victim of an attempted purse snatching on my first weekend in Ghana. I can only imagine what perfect targets we both made, the bag and I. There I was walking along a bridge, swinging my bag and swiveling my head to catch all the sights while a nimble thief waited his opportunity. He tried but didn’t get the bag. Later, I ditched the straw for a mesh shepherd’s bag and that’s what I used for the next two years. When I got home, the natural transition was to a small backpack sort of bag. My early ones were nylon with lots of zippered pockets. Later, I got a bit of fashion sense and switched to leather. I still carry one.

The leather bag I have now is my winter bag. It is black with soft, beautiful leather. I bought it in a leather store when I was looking for sandals. This bag has a roomy middle but only two pockets, one inside and one outside, but I still manage to carry all sorts of necessities. Here is a rundown:

In the front pocket are my keys, a pen and a measuring tape. I use the tape to measure furniture I find to see if it’ll fit in a spot in my house. The inside pocket has my cell phone, a watch and a few gift cards left over from Christmas. Everything else is in the roomy middle. Besides the usual wallet, checkbook and glasses, I have a comb, two kinds of lip gloss and some dental floss which tastes like cinnamon. A small notebook is for sudden inspirations as is the case holding blank cards. My change purse has keys, never change. My trips have taught me to keep odd things so I have sanitizing hand-spray, dissolving soap sheets and a couple of toothettes in case I need to brush my teeth. I figure I’m ready for just about any contingency.

Today is another glorious day of sunshine and no humidity. I’m glad I shut the windows downstairs last night as the house was chilly, still is. This morning has been frustrating. My cable box is frozen on a welcome screen. It was the same yesterday as well, but the technician I spoke to fixed it. He and I also had a wonderful conversation about regional dialects and music. He is partial to bluegrass. I wish I knew how to connect to him again as each new Comcast tech I spoke to this morning couldn’t fix the frozen box. The last one, supposedly an upper level problem solving tech, booked an appointment for someone to come to the house on the 13th. That would be no TV until then, no baseball until then and no news until then though that last one may be a blessing.

I have checked my calendar and other than a library board meeting Tuesday morning and a play Friday evening my week is free. That means I get to loll about on the deck. I might get dressed or I might not depending on my mood.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember any day of doing nothing on purpose. Every summer day was filled. I remember being in the woods and spreading out a blanket under the trees and eating the lunch I’d packed and pretending to be camping. Catching grasshoppers in the field was another way to spend a summer afternoon. I’d have my jar in one hand and its cover filled with holes in the other hand. I’d catch a grasshopper with the jar and put the top on lickey split before the grasshopper could jump out. I’d try to catch as many as I could without losing a single jumper out of the jar. I always let the grasshoppers go.

I remember how grasshoppers jumped up and down in front of me as I walked. I remember the chirping sounds they made. I don’t see grasshoppers anymore.